Surprisingly for a double-sized ‘Duh-dult’ with a brain twice as nice as most service monkeys, I detest duos, dynamic or otherwise. Don’t get your side by side stroller in a twist ‘cause I’m not picking-on your precious mammalian midget offspring and their nasty nostrils or other un-holey pairs of parts. Oh sure I may get the night sweats now and again from the specter of twin kidlet ghosts like those in the Shining or the pale ale Olsen girl bookends, but I genuinely bear more despair with the way stuff in my kitchen is pushed by the pair.
It frustrates me regularly that my toaster mocks me with two gaping slice-slots when often around this dump a single heel-hole would be more apropos. Obviously if I am already ‘heating for two’ then I had better brown n’ butter up both halves of that fork-split bun-muffin right? Pop Tarts seem to be in on the gag too due to their double dose of cardboard calories captured in every self-destructing inner foil bag. I must always sucCRUMB to their ransom demands to double down now rather than later or risk telling a classic POEtic tale of the too-stale tart.
I also think I’m through with that Little Debbie dip too since true it’s her cellophane smile that I rue along with her tasty twin-trapped treats packed two by two. Let’s face it, not even Curious George REALLY needs a second Banana Twin just to freshen his breath or become more ‘a-PEEL-ing” to that dude in the yellow hat. Anyway far fatter and less curious primates like myself can’t afford sumptuous snack packs times two stuffed with goo, since it already takes an abnormally long tong to keep me from mounting my Kong-thong on wrong over my ample sponge cakes.
So keep your Doublemint gum to yourself and pass EITHER the salt or pepper but not both. It’s high time I learned to fly to the fridge solo and slap the back of the twin pack goodbye or at least say adieu to the woo of the food deux voodoo. Anyway who says two heads are better than one . . . unless of course you have an uncontrollable urge to take two peas in a pod!